Doyle looked at our faces as we read. "I have a scheme," he announced, craftily. "See what you think of it. There's that dictagraph I put in, you know."
Kennedy nodded. Although our opinion of Doyle was not of the highest, it was not impossible that here was a situation that called for no great amount of cleverness to surmount.
"Want to use it?" he asked.
Kennedy considered.
"I put the thing in right. There's a receiver in every room, and I've got a sort of central office there. You can listen in on any room you please by just throwing a switch."
Kennedy assumed a flattering manner. "Just the thing, Doyle," he acquiesced. "Now look here. This is the way to work it. You go there first—not to the room, but to the apartment. Stay around there a bit as though you were looking for something, then leave and take care to make it certain that they know you are going away some distance and will be gone some time."
"I get you," agreed Doyle. "Then McCabe—"
"Confound McCabe!" interrupted Kennedy. "He must clear out, too. He's buzzing around that maid, Celeste. Well, for once it may lead to something. Give McCabe something to do that will take him away, too. Then tell him to let Celeste know. Get it? Make it as plain as day to her that for once you are all off the job. Then she'll think it's safe—unless she's clever," added Kennedy. "Meanwhile Jameson and I will slip into that little listening post of yours. Maybe we'll get something. You can't tell."
"It sounds all right," commented Doyle, loosening a key from a ring. "There's the key—it's Apartment K where the dictagraph is."
"All right," remarked Kennedy, taking it. "Now go along and get your end of the plant working. Do everything you can to let her believe that you've relaxed. I'll get there in half an hour. We can't put this off too long."